


Haunted

by miss_grey



Series: Netherworld Trilogy [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blackmail, Canonical Character Death, Castiel is a spirit, Dean can interact with the spirit world, F/M, Ghosts, Haunting, Jealous Castiel, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Minor Character Death, Paranoia, Part 2 of Netherworld, Unhealthy levels of sass, and all sorts of other crazy shit, basically this story is one big mindfuck, flirtation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1188177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s life is complicated enough as it is: he’s got a spirit Guardian named Cas, who he considers his best friend, he’s got a great roommate named Sam who doesn’t think Dean’s crazy, and now he’s got a part time job at the university library.  And oh yeah, in his free time, he studies the occult to try to figure out just what the hell he is.  Unfortunately for Dean, his life is about to get much more complicated.</p><p>There’s something wrong with Bela Talbot, and all she wants is for the problem to go away.  At least, that’s all she wanted until she met Dean.  Bela is the kind of woman who is used to getting exactly what she wants.  Except… she never counted on Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Something Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the Netherworld Trilogy. This story picks up the summer following Dean’s freshman year of college.
> 
> Here's the mix I made for the series: http://8tracks.com/miss_grey/netherworld

 

 “If you look into the abyss, the abyss looks also into you.” –Friedrich Nietzsche

 

           The woman tapped her manicured nails impatiently on the paper-strewn desk that separated her and the psychology professor.  “What do you mean, you can’t help me?”  The charm of her British accent was countered by the sharp bite of her words.

            Dr. Bishop shuffled through his stack of papers again, frowning and shaking his head.  “I’m sorry, Ms. Talbot, but as I said, all of the tests came back negative.”

            Bela Talbot paused in her tapping and instead took up a decidedly unimpressed pose, her arms folded over her chest.  She leaned back in the rickety chair Dr. Bishop had provided for her.  “All negative?”  Her voice was a deceptive purr.  “Will you please enlighten me, then, Professor, on how such a thing is possible?  You and your team have all seen that my sleep patterns are erratic, my moods have been… extra temperamental, shall we say…. My appetite is gone.” 

            Dr. Bishop cleared his throat.  “Yes, I’m aware of your symptoms, Ms. Talbot, but nevertheless, the tests show….”

            Bela sat forward suddenly, her eyes narrowed.  “Then do them again.”  She hissed.

            Dr. Bishop sat back in his chair, eyeing her warily.  He cleared his throat and glowered at her the best he could, without giving outright offense.  After all, the woman had made a sizable donation to the department in return for their help and their discretion.  “Again, I apologize that the findings are unsatisfactory to you, Ms. Talbot.  But our equipment is top of the line, and no research facility in the state is better manned than our department.  I believe that is why you volunteered for our sleep study, yes?”  Bela simply continued to stare at the man.  “May I suggest you see a neurologist for your…issue?”

            Bela’s voice was a growl when she replied, “My neurologist is the one who suggested I come and see _you._ ”

            Dr. Bishop straightened his stack of papers and slid them across the table toward Bela.  “In that case, please allow me to offer my sincerest regret that we were not able to provide you with the answers you seek.”

            Bela was on the verge of throwing a nasty remark back at the professor when there was a quick knock on the door and it swung open before the professor could answer.  A young man peeked his head around the door, saying “Excuse me, Professor, but uh…. Oh, you have company.  Sorry!”  He began to close the door sheepishly, but Dr. Bishop stopped him.

            “It’s quite alright, Dean, our meeting was just finished.  What did you need?”

            Dean pushed the door open and strode in, and Bela’s eyes tracked his movements like a cat tracking a mouse.  Dean ran a hand through his disheveled dark blonde hair and offered the professor a grin.  “I just wanted to make sure you got my final paper… and I wanted to tell you personally how much I enjoyed your class.”  Dean smiled, but then his eyes flashed nervously to Bela, before focusing on the professor again.

            Dr. Bishop took the paper and smiled.  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.  It was a pleasure having you in class this semester, Dean.  I hope to see you again next year?”

            Dean smiled.  “Sure thing, Professor.  Have a good summer!”  Dean offered a final wave and then he was pulling the door shut behind him again.  Dr. Bishop glanced over the paper with a small smile on his face, but set it aside and glanced back up at Bela.

            “Who was that?”  Bela asked, glancing down at her nails so that the professor could not see the gleam of interest in her eyes.  “He was rather rude, wasn’t he?  Just barging in here like that.”

            The professor waved the insult away.  “He’s a bit rough around the edges, but Dean is one of the brightest new students in this department.  His interests are very… unique, and his ideas are refreshing.”

            Bela glanced up at the professor.  “Oh?”

            Dr. Bishop frowned and straightened in his seat.  “This meeting is over.”

            


	2. Bela Talbot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter--sorry it's short, but it had to end at this part. The next ones will be longer. I'd love to know what you all think :)

           

 

 

          The low buzzing of the fluorescent lights and occasional murmur of the patrons were the only sounds that disrupted the near-silent turning of pages and the brush of books sliding on shelves.  Even the thud of footsteps was muffled in the thick carpet of the library.  Dean felt at home here—it had always been his favorite spot on campus.  He’d even scouted out his own private nook during his first week on campus as a freshman, and since then, Dean had spent countless hours poring over stacks of books here, sometimes into the early hours of the morning when the library finally closed for the night. 

          It had been a long shot when he’d applied for the summer job, but he’d gotten it (mostly because the librarians all recognized him) and he couldn’t be more grateful.  He liked his job; it was peaceful, and he was happy. 

          Well, most of the time.

          The woman with curly, dark-honey locks stared at Dean over the top of her book, all the while pretending to be reading at the guest table across the aisle from where Dean was busy re-shelving.  This was the second day it’d happened now, and Dean didn't even have to look up to notice anymore: Cas, who was leaning against the shelf next to Dean stared coolly back at the woman over Dean’s shoulder and provided a running commentary that no one else could hear.

          “She just did it again,” Cas drawled, and Dean flicked a glance at him, ill at ease with his calm tone.  Often it was when Cas seemed the most calm that he was really most riled.  The way his eyes were slightly narrowed and one of his brows was cocked alerted Dean to the strong need to be cautious. 

           “What did she do?”  Dean whispered under his breath. 

            “She just ran her fingers over her neckline again.  Something's making her awfully hot.” Cas shifted his bright blue gaze meaningfully to Dean for just a second, just long enough for Dean to realize Cas was gonna stick to him like glue for the rest of the night. Cas turned his gaze back to the woman and cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders.  Set his jaw. 

            “Well whatever she's doing, she’s only got 15 minutes left to do it in,” Dean said, glancing at his watch. “Library closes at seven.”

            “Seven isn't soon enough,” Cas growled.

 

 

 

 

            The woman startled and gasped, a hand thrown dramatically over her heart, when she came around the corner of the library into the parking lot and found Dean leaning against the side of the building with his arms crossed, waiting for her.  Dean smirked and beside him, Cas rolled his eyes at her drama.  Dean pushed off of the wall and asked “Was there something you wanted?”

            The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder and straightened her spine in an effort to regain some of her dignity.  “I was hoping for a private conversation,” She glanced around the darkened parking lot again and raised an eyebrow at Dean.  “Like civilized people.”  Dean merely quirked his brow at her, so she huffed and held out her hand.  “My name is Bela Talbot, and I have a proposition for you.”

            Dean looked down upon the woman, and she looked back up at him, all signs of feigned fear gone now.  “For me?  You don’t even know me, lady.”

            Now it was Bela’s turn to smirk as she dropped her hand.  “Ah, but I do.  Your name is Dean Winchester; you’re a student here earning a double degree in anthropology and psychology.  I know that your research interests are rather unique—some might even say your course is delusional—after all, mixing the metaphysical into your analysis…?  I also happen to know that you share a small apartment a couple blocks from here with your roommate named Samuel Singer who works at a diner slinging burgers.  And finally, I know that you are estranged from your family and currently dirt poor.  It would be in your best interests to listen to what I have to say.”

            Next to Dean, Cas’s eyes had narrowed dangerously on Bela and Dean could _feel_ that he wanted to hurt her.  Thankfully, he was holding himself back.  Dean couldn’t risk glancing at him or saying anything, so instead, he focused his shock and frustration on the woman in front of him.  “Look, lady,”

            “Bela.”

            “Bela.  I don’t know who the hell you are, or how you found out all that stuff about me.  Honestly, I don’t even care at this point.  But you don’t know everything about me, sweetheart.”  Dean’s words were cut off, suddenly, when his attention focused behind Bela at the new arrival.  He gaped for a second before he shook himself and forced himself to look at Bela again.  “First thing—you can’t blackmail me.  Second—I already know what your problem is, and I hope it drives you fucking crazy.”  With that, Dean turned on his heel and marched away, with Cas prowling at his side.

            “Wait!”  Bela hollered.  “Don’t you want to hear how much I’m willing to _pay_ you?!”

            Dean didn’t even bother glancing over his shoulder when he yelled, “Nope!”  And carried on his way.

 

 

 

 

            The door to the apartment burst open before Dean even laid a hand on the knob, and he cast an irritated look at Cas, who was practically vibrating with pent up energy next to him.  “How did she know all those things about you?!”  Cas growled, as he swept into the apartment behind Dean, his eyes lit with righteous anger. 

            Dean threw his bag down and shrugged.  “I dunno, man.  But I don’t like it.”

            “She attempted to coerce you.”

            Dean nodded.  “Yep.  She’ll probably do it again, too.  She’s been following me for how long, now?  I doubt she’ll give up after one rejection.”

            “Dean.”  Cas stopped in front of Dean, eyes imploring, and he laid a hand on Dean’s chest to stop him walking away.  “I don’t like it.”

            Dean laid his hand over Cas’s for a moment before shrugging it off and going into the kitchen to grab something to eat.  He was starving, but unfortunately it looked like all he and Sam had right now was cereal… that was _if_ the milk was still good.  They’d have to go grocery shopping soon.  After Dean had poured himself a bowl and sat himself down at the little table in their half-sized dining room, he glanced up at Cas and said “I don’t like it either, man.  But she obviously doesn’t know as much as she thinks she does.”

            Cas gave a sharp nod.  “Right.  She wasn’t aware of him, was she?”

            Dean crammed a large spoonful of cereal in his mouth and mumbled around it, “Nope.”

            Cas finally took a seat across from Dean so that he could look him in the eyes.  “And she didn’t know that you could see him, either, did she?”

            Dean shook his head.  “Nah, don’t think so.  I don’t think that’s what she came to me for, anyway.  I mean… if she did, don’t you think she would have just come out and said it?  I mean… if she was trying to blackmail me, that would have been a bigger gun to use than the one she pulled.”

            Cas frowned for a moment, his dark brows pulled tight.  “We should warn Sam.  She’s obviously been spying on him as well.”

            Dean nodded and took another bite.  “Yeah.”

            Cas reached across the table, his fingers wrapping warmly around Dean’s wrist, pausing the movement of the spoon.  Dean met Cas’s gaze, knowing what was coming.  “What about the spirit, Dean?  What should we do about him?”

            Dean shrugged.  “Nothing.  Lady’s a bitch.  I hope he haunts her ass.”


	3. Spirit Guides

 

 

          It was nice to have his own room again.  Dean loved living with Sam—the dude was an awesome roommate, but they were both grown men and it was a little awkward falling asleep where the other person could see you all the time.  Plus, while Sam knew about Cas and still welcomed him with open arms, it made Dean feel a little less crazy if he could talk to Cas in the privacy of his own room sometimes.  Plus, it was just weird having a conversation with someone that no one else could see or hear.  Sam was endlessly patient, and had learned to either ignore Dean when he spoke with Cas, or wait for Dean to relay the message.  Cas was totally cool with it too—he loved that Dean had a friend who knew about him.  Dean tried not to care, but hell… years and years of self-preservation instinct didn’t disappear in the space of a year just because Sam was a decent human being.

           On this particular day, Dean was enjoying the simple pleasure of his room and the desk he kept there, strewn with books and papers that piqued his interest.  He’d made a lot of progress in the last year—toward learning who and what he was, what Cas was—and slowly learning how to accept it.  Dean didn’t have to hide anymore, and he couldn’t think of a better feeling in the world.

           “You know, spirit guides aren't that uncommon,” Dean said absently as he flipped through a text at his desk.  Last semester, he’d done a term paper about the role of spirit guides in shamanism, and it had been so fascinating that he’d kept all of the materials behind so that he could look deeper at the subject. 

            The springs on Dean’s bed creaked as Cas shifted around and drew closer.  “Oh yeah?”

            Dean glanced over his shoulder at Cas and saw that those big blue eyes were focused on him, one of his dark brows arched playfully.

            “Yeah.  As far as I can tell, in most of the cultures across the world that had shamans or their equivalent, those men or women also had spirits which they communed with and who guided them through the spirit world.”  Dean typed out another note as he said this.

            “Well, were any of them as…cool…as me?”

            “Oh, definitely not,” Dean said, flashing Cas a smirk. “Some of them were even plants.”

            Cas frowned and that adorable line appeared on his forehead.  “Umm... I think I must have missed something there, Dean.  What do you mean they were plants?  Is that some new insult I haven't learned yet?”

            Dean laughed because Cas looked so innocently confused. “No, man,” Dean chuckled, “Some of them took the form of plants.  Trees and stuff, you know.  Sacred plants.”

            Cas looked no less confused by Dean’s explanation.  “So... you're telling me some of these shamans were guided through the spirit world by talking plants?”  Dean nodded and Cas’s expression only turned more incredulous.  “But how could a plant protect its shaman?!”  Cas’s voice grew deeper and took on that gruff tone he adopted when he was upset.  He sounded so outraged that a guide might neglect its duty by choosing to be a plant.  “I don't think they'd be very good guides.  Were they?”

            Dean shrugged, “The shamans who had plant guides didn't seem to mind much.  Some of their guides could even change shape.  One day they'd be a plant, the next day they'd be an animal and so forth.”

            Cas huffed and crossed his arms.  “Well, I don't know about you, Dean, but I'm glad I'm not a plant.  That's just pathetic.”

            Dean laughed again and closed the book that he knew he wouldn’t be finishing that day.   “Well, just between you and me, Cas, I'm also kinda glad you aren't a plant.  I wouldn't be nearly as interested in listening to your advice.”

            Cas huffed a small laugh and his shoulders relaxed slightly.  “Not to mention I'm way more useful than a plant.”  His face screwed up in thought for a moment before he burst out laughing, the deep rumble crawling up Dean’s spine and doing strange things to him, “Did those shamans have to carry their plant-guides around?”  He snorted, “That's even more pathetic.”  Cas grinned impishly at Dean, then.  “At least you've never had to carry me around, right?”

            Dean’s playful smile slowly faded to a more serious one as he thought back to some of their most recent adventures, and the trouble Dean had gotten into last semester.  “No, I've never had to carry you,” Dean murmured absently, his mind already wandering elsewhere.  “It's usually the other way around,” he whispered.  Dean could see out of the corner of his eye, Cas’s expression soften and his eyes turn serious.  But before he could comment on this turn of conversation, Dean returned his attention to his book and determinedly tried to ignore Cas's protective presence behind him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Dean must have fallen asleep on the couch in the living room, but he bolted up now, his heart hammering in his chest, his palms sweaty.  The room was dark, but Dean cast his gaze around anyway, his eyes seeking to penetrate even the darkest corners of the room.  There was nothing there….

It must have been another nightmare.

            Dean couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about now, but he still felt off… dirty, almost.  And there was still a feeling that he just couldn’t shake… like someone had been watching him.  “Whatever man,” Dean huffed, throwing his legs over the side of the couch and standing.  “I don’t have to deal with this shit.”

            Twenty minutes later when Sam came home, he found all of the lights in the apartment turned on and Dean sitting at their little table with a book and a bowl of cereal, humming what sounded like Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.”  Sam paused just inside the door and glanced around.  “Hey man…”  Dean lifted his gaze and focused on Sam, “Is everything alright?”

            Dean cast his eyes around the bright apartment and shrugged.  “Sure, Sam.  Just had a nightmare.”

            Dean could see from the expression on Sam’s face that his roommate was just itching to turn the lights off, what with his whole “save-energy, save-the-world” thing, but thankfully he didn’t make the suggestion.  See?  Perfect fucking roommate.  Sam’s face shifted like he might want to get to the whole share and care portion of the day, so Dean decided to beat him to the punch.  Dean grinned.  “How was work?”

            Sam shrugged nonchalantly.  “It was alright.  Pretty slow night, actually, which was kinda weird.”

            Dean’s grin grew wolfish.  “And how was that hot waitress that you’ve got eyes for?  What’s her name….”

            Sam grew red and shuffled on his gigantic feet.  He shot Dean what Dean had come to call the “bitchface” and murmured “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            Dean turned to give Sam his full attention.  “Sure you do.  Blonde, curvy, has a smile like an angel….”

            Sam huffed.  “Fine!  Yeah, okay…Jess is…good.  Nice.”

            Dean snorted.  “I’ll bet.”  Sam frowned at him.  “You ever gonna ask her out?”

            Sam’s frown grew deeper.  “Dean…. We’ve been over this, I don’t think she’s interested.”

            Dean held his hands up in defense.  “Alright, alright.  I’m just saying… I think she likes you.  You should think about asking her.”

            Sam’s shoulders slumped.  “Whatever.”  He flipped the lock on their door and came into the kitchen where he flopped down at the table, his long limbs sprawling.  “How’s Cas doing?”

            Dean frowned at the abrupt change of topic.  “Cas’s good.”

            “He here?”

            Dean glanced around.  “Not that I know of.  He’s been getting restless lately.”

            Sam bobbed his head.  “Where does he go when he isn’t with you?”

            Dean shrugged and refocused his attention on his book.  “Dunno.”  Dean managed to get through a half a page before he glanced back up again, because Sam had grown quiet.  “What?”

            Sam rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.  “Nothing.  I mean… doesn’t it sort of bother you, though?  That you don’t know where he is or what he’s doing?”

            Dean frowned, his eyes narrowing. “No.  Why should it bother me?  Do you know what _your_ friends are doing all hours of the day?”

            Sam shifted uneasily on his seat.  “Well, no.  But, I mean… you and Cas don’t exactly have a, uh… regular… relationship.”

            Dean crossed his arms.  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

            Sam stared at Dean patiently.  “Dean… he’s your spirit guide… or guardian, or whatever….”

            Dean dropped his eyes again.   “So?”

            “Have you ever asked him where he goes?”

            “Nah.  Not seriously.  It doesn’t matter, Sam.  I trust Cas.”

            “Okay.”  Sam held his hands up, signaling peace.  “I’ll drop it.”

            “Good.”  They sat there like that for a while, pretending that their conversation had never happened.


	4. The House Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say THANK YOU to all of my readers who have been incredibly patient with me this year. I apologize for the long wait, (and the short chapter) but I figured a late/short update is better than no update, right? I hope you enjoy, regardless. In other news, I just finished my MA program and I have the entire summer free, which means zero obligations and a ton of time for writing fanfiction. So! Expect much faster updates from here on out.

 

            Dean had almost allowed himself to forget about that bitch Bela Talbot and her issues; in fact, he was more than happy to let her deal with her own problems, and he hoped to hell that her _problem_ drove her crazy. 

            That is, of course, until her problems came and found Dean.

 

 

 

 

 

            Dean was jolted awake at the ungodly hour of 3:02 A.M. by a snarl, the bed shaking, a crash, and then a smarmy voice sporting a British accent murmuring “Well isn’t this a pretty sight.”

            When Dean’s eyes cleared enough to be able to see through the gloom of his bedroom, he threw his blankets off and sprang to his feet, immediately on the defensive.  Cas had a guy pinned to the wall and was snarling at him like he might rip him apart any second.  The man, who on closer inspection turned out to be the spirit that Dean had seen following Bela, did not seem the least bit perturbed by his situation, however.  The man flickered but grinned, holding his hands up in front of him.  He eyed Cas for a moment.  “You _are_ a fine specimen, aren’t you?”  Then he flicked his eyes to Dean.  “Mind calling your guard dog back?  I’m not here for a fight.  Just a chat.”

            Dean huffed, and before he could say anything, Cas took a step back, but he made sure to keep himself firmly in the space _between_ Dean and this other spirit.  “Much better.”  The man said, straightening his clothes in a practiced, but pointless display.  “Now,” he said, scanning his eyes over Cas before focusing on Dean once again, “You’ve got to help me.”

            Dean snorted.  “Oh yeah?  And why is that?”

            The man rolled his eyes.  “Well, if you couldn’t tell, I’m sort of trapped here.  And considering that you can obviously _see_ me, and this other one, I figured you could help.”

            Dean shrugged.  “Yeah, I probably could.  But why should I?  I saw you with that chick, Bela Talbot.  Man, what a piece of work.”

            “Yes, well, that’s why you’ve got to help me.  She is driving me insane.  It’s not bad enough that I’m apparently dead, but now I seem to be…stuck…with her.”

            Dean frowned, thrown for a second.  Cas piped up, though, asking “Who is she?  To you, I mean?”

            The man snorted.  “Ugh.  She’s my bloody ex.”

            Dean quirked a brow, suddenly much more interested.  “She whack you or something?”

            “Hardly.”  The man rolled his shoulders and took a short step away from the wall. He flickered again.  “Sadly, it was a car accident that did me in.”

            “So what do you need our help for, then?”

            “Unfortunately dear Bela has a piece of information that I need before I can…rest…or move on…or party in Maui, or what-have-you.”

            “What information is that?”

            “Well, you see, that’s my problem.  I can’t for the life of me remember.”  The man chuckled at his own joke and rocked back on the heels of his feet.  “And neither can she.”

            “ _Neither can she?_ ” Dean parroted, confused.

            “That’s the thing about head trauma, apparently.  Sometimes people _forget_ things.”

            “So what do you want us to do about it?”  Cas asked, brows drawn in a frown.

            “Help us to remember, of course.”  The man flashed a cheeky grin and held out his hand.  “I’m Balthazar, by the way.”  Dean flicked a glance at Cas, which his friend met, before he extended his hand warily towards the spirit.  However, the moment before their hands touched, Balthazar flickered again, then vanished.

 

 

 

 

 

            Dean ran a hand through his sleep-disheveled hair and cast an annoyed look at Cas.  “So what, we just accept drop-in house calls now?”  Cas shrugged, frowning.  “Seriously, what the hell?”

            “I don’t know, Dean.  But he did seem rather upset, or at least…confused.”  Cas mimicked Dean and ran a hand through his own mussed hair, prompting Dean to wonder whether Cas had been “sleeping” or not when Balthazar arrived.  “What are we going to do?”

            “Ugh, I dunno, man.  I _really_ don’t want to get involved with that Bela chick.”

            “And the spirit?  Balthazar?”

            “Can’t we just exorcize him or something?”  Dean wondered.

            Cas frowned disapprovingly at him, which didn’t surprise Dean in the least.  “Dean,” he chided, “exorcism is not always the answer.  What if this Balthazar person genuinely requires our assistance?  What if this forgotten information is actually important?”

            Dean sighed, shoulders slumping.  He totally knew where this conversation was headed.  “You’re not going to let me pretend this never happened, are you?”  Cas simply folded his arms across his chest in one of his classic “stubborn bastard” poses.  “Fine!”  Dean grumbled.  “We’ll help the guy, alright?  But I am _not_ dealing with this until the morning.”  Dean flung himself back onto his bed, cool sheets feeling like heaven against his skin.  He turned his face into the pillow and mumbled “Don’t wake me before the sun comes up.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Dean stared blankly at the computer screen, a whirlwind of annoyance and shock and exhaustion roaring just under his skin.  The newspaper report glowed on the screen, the headline from six months before proclaiming **“Deadly crash kills one, hospitalizes another.”** And the body of the text confirmed that wealthy investor Balthazar Roche, 34, had been behind the wheel during the accident but had presumably died on impact.  His passenger, ex-fiancé Bela Talbot, had suffered severe head trauma and been hospitalized.

            Dean sat back in his chair and turned to glance at Cas, who had read the article over his shoulder.  That tell-tale little furrow was back on Cas’s forehead, and he bit at his lip as he read the article and pondered the information.  Dean didn’t bother averting his gaze when he folded his arms and huffed.  “Son of a bitch.  Looks like Balthazar was telling the truth.”

            “So what do we do now?”  Cas asked, finally meeting Dean’s gaze.

            “We dig up as much dirt as we can on this Bela Talbot before we go talk with her so that she doesn’t feel quite so eager about trying to blackmail me again.”  Dean shook his head and glared back at the computer.  “I have a feeling this summer is gonna suck.”


	5. Striking Deals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I've just moved and started a new job, so I can't promise that they'll be any more frequent, but be assured that I haven't abandoned this or any of my other stories. And thank you all for your patience!

 

 

 

            Bela took a sip of her tea and arched a brow over the ceramic cup as Dean slid into the booth across from her.  She smirked at him and set the cup on the table, eyes focused on Dean’s, predatory; Dean figured it was probably her default.  She was completely unaware of Cas sliding in next to him.  “I must admit, Dean, I wasn’t expecting your call.  So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”  Dean and Cas both grimaced at her wording, but the twist of Dean’s mouth seemed only to encourage Bela further.  “What is it?  Did you finally realize you should listen to my proposition before you toss my offer away?”

            Dean snorted.  “Hardly.”

            “So you don’t want to be paid then?”

            “Oh, you’re gonna pay me for my services, lady, but before we get to that conversation, I wanted to lay some of my own cards on the table.”

            Bela rolled her eyes but waved her hand, huffing “Go ahead then.”

            “Last time I ran into you, you tried to blackmail me.”  Bela smirked, obviously still pleased with herself on that count.  “Don’t ever do that again.  I’m not the kinda guy you can blackmail, Bela.  I want you to understand that right now.  All that stuff you dug up about me?  That’s nothing.  Child’s play.  Don’t worry though, if we strike a deal today, you’ll learn more about me than you ever wanted to know, trust me.  Also, I’m better at finding things than you are.  So, let’s get started.”  Dean leaned back in the booth, shoulder relaxing against Cas’s.  “Bela Talbot, 28.  Heiress to a multibillion dollar corporation.  Parents died suddenly and mysteriously when you were 13, leaving you the sole heir to the fortune.  A fortune that you were far from shy of using, might I add.” Bela’s jaw clenched.  “Ever since then, you’ve led a life of luxury without many responsibilities, and I know that you’ve left a string of wealthy exes behind you.  None of them are important to me, however.  Except for your latest ex: Balthazar Roche, who died in the same tragic car accident that left you with a head injury severe enough that you’ve spent the last few months jumping from doctor to doctor trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with you.”  Bela’s eye twitched and Dean could see her knuckles go white around her tea cup.  Sprawled in the booth next to her, Balthazar suddenly flickered into sight, wry smirk on his face. 

            Balthazar glanced between them all before focusing on Cas.  “He’s rather harsh, isn’t he?”  He asked, nodding toward Dean.  Dean ignored him.

            “Now, I know why you came to see me.  You’re having trouble sleeping, can’t remember everything from before or during the crash, and you’ve got this strange… _feeling…_ that you’re not alone.  Right?”

            Bela narrowed her eyes and her nostrils flared, but she didn’t say anything.  Dean really disliked her, but he had to give her credit for her composure.

            “What do you want from me?” 

            It was Dean’s turn to snort now.  “How much were you going to offer to pay me when you cornered me outside the library the other night?”

            Bela huffed.  “I was going to offer to pay for your education in return for your assistance.”

            Balthazar rolled his eyes and kicked his feet up onto the table between them.  “She’s being rather cheap, mate.”  He told Dean.  “She can afford to pay you much more than that.”

            Dean continued to ignore Balthazar, however, and held a hand out across the table.  “You’ve got a deal.”  Bela’s eyes widened in disbelief, and though she raised her own hand, she hesitated for a moment.

            “If that deal is acceptable, then why did you go through all the trouble of digging through my past?”

            Dean merely quirked a brow.  “Payment was never the problem, sweetheart.  I wanted you to know not to fuck with me.  Now, do we have ourselves a deal?”

            “Fine.”  Bela slid her own delicate hand into Dean’s and shook for just a moment before Dean dropped her hand and pulled back.

            “Great.  Then let’s get out of here so we can have a serious chat.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Bela crossed her arms over her chest and cast her unimpressed gaze up at the apartment building.  “You really expect me to follow you into this decrepit building alone after you just attempted to blackmail me?”

            Dean rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose to keep from losing his mind.  He’d only been in Bela’s presence for a short while, but it was already too much.  He was beginning to feel sorry for Balthazar at this point.  “This ‘decrepit building’ is where I happen to live.”

            “Oh?”  Bela finally glanced back at him, brow quirked.  “Is that supposed to make me more likely to go in there with you?”  She flicked her gaze over him in a predatory way.  “You might not be hard to look at, but I’m beginning to think you’re much less trustworthy than I first assumed.”

            Dean forced a smile on his own face.  “Well, let me put it this way: We either talk in the privacy of my home, or we don’t talk at all, and you can deal with your problem yourself.”

            Bela sighed dramatically, not even giving the statement any real thought, before she waved Dean forward.  “Lead on, then.”

            Dean really hated the idea of bringing Bela into the sanctuary of his home.  He _hated_ it.  It made his skin crawl to think that she’d set her smarmy ass on his couch, or that she might try to sneak a peek at his bedroom (something he sure as hell wasn’t gonna allow.)  Frankly, he didn’t like her at all, no matter what her circumstances, and he didn’t want her anywhere near this place or the people in it.  But there really wasn’t anywhere else they could go where he’d be sure no one could overhear them.  Here at least, he knew they wouldn’t be bothered.  Sam was at the diner for the next eight hours, and Cas would know if anyone else was even close.  It was safe here, and Dean definitely wanted privacy for this conversation. 

            After Bela had sneered at his furniture and the apartment in general, she settled herself on the edge of the couch and motioned for Dean to begin talking.  Cas shifted on his feet next to Dean, his bright blue eyes flicking between Bela and Balthazar.  Dean took a breath and figured he might as well get this over with.  “You’re being haunted, but that’s not the real problem here.”

            Bela blinked at him for a moment, mouth a tight line.  “Excuse me?”

            “Balthazar is haunting you.  Son of a bitch has started haunting me too because he knows I can see him.  That’s why I called you.  That’s why I changed my mind.  I’d like a little peace and quiet again, and I know I won’t have it as long as he’s hanging around.”

            Bela shot up from her seat, fists balled.  “You expect me to believe that my ex-fiancé is haunting me?  And that _you can see him_?”  She hissed.

            Balthazar rolled his eyes again.  “I could have told you she’d never believe that, mate.  She’s stubborn as hell and doesn’t believe in anything she can’t see with her own two eyes.  Always was a problem between us.”

            “He’s here with us, right now.  I can prove it, if you want.”

            “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

            Balthazar smirked.  “Tell her we met at the flat of a mutual friend in London.  It was for an art show.”

            “Balthazar says you guys met at in London during an art show.  At a friend’s flat.”

            “That piece of information is supposed to make me believe you?  You’ve already proven that you’re able to get your hands on my personal information.”

            “She has a point, Dean.”  Cas murmured in his ear.  And wow, he’d gotten much closer than Dean realized.  “Balthazar—is there more…personal information you can give Dean?  Something only you would know?”

            Balthazar frowned for a moment, and then his shoulders slumped, and for the first time he seemed to lose some of his perpetual smugness.  “She was never one for pet names but sometimes, in private, I would call her _mon ange._ She always said she hated it, but she never stopped me.  Tell her that.”

            Dean relayed the message and for a moment, he thought that Bela might slap him.  Her body went tense, and her eyes hardened, but her lip trembled.  He saw it, just for a moment, before she slowly sank back down to the couch.  “How could you possibly know that?”  She murmured.

            Dean shrugged, for the first time feeling a twinge of sympathy for her. “I didn’t know it.  Balthazar told me.  He’s here with us now, whether you believe it or not.”  Dean scuffed his boot against the floor and glanced at Cas for support before he turned back to Bela.  “Look, I know this is a lot to swallow right now, but it’s the truth, and it’s all I got.  I can see spirits.  Balthazar is one.  He’s haunting you, and he’s not gonna stop until he gets what he wants.  Now, I can help you with that, or you can walk out of this apartment right now.  Those are the only two options you got here.”

            Dean watched Bela closely, and he could see the effort she put forth in keeping her peace.  He could _feel_ that she wanted to snap at him, to ridicule him, and throw his words back in his face.  He could also sense that she was pretty damn desperate at this point.  She had to be, really, for her to come to him.  He watched Bela wage a battle with herself, but eventually she squared her shoulders, determined, and she asked, voice quiet and calm, “What does he want?”

            Dean shrugged.  “He says you have a piece of information that he needs before he can move on, but apparently he doesn’t remember what it was, and he thinks you probably don’t either.”

            Bela sighed and tipped her head forward into her hands.  “There’s quite a bit that I can no longer remember.  Things have been…disjointed since the accident.  That’s one of the things I was seeking help with.  The other problem…if I’m to believe you…is that my ex-fiance is still with me.”

            “That’s basically it.”

            “Right.  Well, I’m not going to say I believe you, because honestly what you’re saying sounds preposterous.  But I’m not going to dismiss it out of hand either.  I’m willing to see what you can do for me.  But I want you to keep in mind, Dean Winchester—our deal is only good so long as you help me.  If you’re attempting to play me right now, I can assure you that you won’t get paid.  And I will also make it my personal mission to make your life a living hell.”  Balthazar snorted and rolled his eyes.  “Am I making myself clear?”

            “Crystal.  Can we move on, now?  I’d rather you didn’t stay here any longer than you have to.”

            “Fine.  How do you propose to help me?”

            “Well, I’ve spoken with Balthazar, and he assures me that he will be happy to quit haunting you as soon as he has the information he needs, so the real problem here is getting the information.”

            “Yes, and how exactly do you plan on getting it? I can’t remember it, in case you already forgot about my head trauma?”

            Dean snorted and Cas narrowed his eyes at Bela from across the room, his shoulders rolling in agitation.  “Yeah, I remember.  Chill out for a minute, will you?  Look, I have an idea of how I can help you remember, but I have to do a little more research first before I can be sure.  I’ll get back with you ASAP but until then do you think you can relax a little?”

            Bela stood from the couch, brushing invisible lint from her pant suit.  “I’m perfectly fine, Winchester.  Call me when you know something.”  She didn’t even bother looking back as she marched out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

           

            _The parking lot was dark, empty.  It was late enough that most people were home safe in their beds, and the rain kept most everyone else in.  But not Dean.  He had research he had to do, and the library had become a safe place for him._

_Still, the time had gotten away from him and it had become too late—he had to get back to the dorm.  Cas would probably start worrying soon, like he always did.  The rain was lashing the pavement as Dean rounded the corner of the library, and above him, the streetlight flickered.  Through the sheet of rain, Dean could see a lone figure standing in the center of the parking lot, waiting for him.  In his gut, Dean already knew who it was.  He knew what was gonna happen.  Part of him knew that this had happened before, knew that it was going to hurt like a bitch._

_Gordon lifted his head toward Dean, pitch-black eyes focusing on him through the rain and the darkness.  Dean felt a chill go down his spine.  Part of him knew that he’d almost died that night.  Was this a dream?  Or déjà vu?  Was he about to get beat within an inch of his life again?  “Cas!”  Dean screamed, voice falling flat in the open air.  “Cas!”  He was the one who’d saved Dean last time.  Where was he?  Cas was always close, he always came when Dean called.  “CAS!”_

_Gordon smirked and took a step toward Dean.  “Miss me, Dean?”_

_Dean’s foot slipped on the slick pavement when he took a step backward, already reciting the first lines of the exorcism.  Inside, his thoughts were a jumble of Latin and “CAS!!!”_

_Gordon almost seemed to glide toward Dean, utterly unbothered by the storm.  “Your boy’s not here right now, Dean.  He’s not gonna save you.  Not this time.  And I have a bone to pick with you.”_

            Dean jerked awake, arms flailing.  A stack of papers and books slid to the floor and scattered around his desk.  He shoved himself back, suddenly aware that he was in his bedroom; he must have fallen asleep at his desk.  A moment later, he felt the comforting weight of Cas’s presence at his back, and Dean allowed himself to settle back into the chair.  Cas laid a hand on his shoulder and leant forward so that he could see Dean’s face.  “Dean?”  He asked, voice deep and steady.  “Are you alright?  You were dreaming.”

            “Yeah,” Dean muttered, raking a hand over his face to mop away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead.  “Just having a nightmare Cas.”

            Cas frowned and his bright blue eyes searched Dean’s face.  “I wish I could keep them from you.  I wish I could be there for you when you need me.”

            Dean shuddered, torn between wishing Cas could’ve been there as well to support him, and glad that Cas wasn’t there to face what Dean was forced to deal with.  “Thanks Cas, but that’s sort of imp….”  Dean narrowed his eyes, suddenly recalling an obscure reference he’d passed over sometime during his browsing sessions of the library last year.  “Wait a second here, Cas.  I just thought of something.”  Dean flipped his laptop open and clicked away frantically at his browser.  There were thousands of search results, but only the fourth one mattered to Dean.  He opened the link and read through the material very quickly before he allowed a satisfied smile to stretch his lips, and he settled back in his chair.

            “What?  What is it, Dean?”

            “I think I found a solution to our Bela problem.”

            Cas’s face was serious as he leant over Dean’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen.  “I don’t understand, Dean.  _Silene undulata._   What exactly is it?”

            Dean smiled, the fear from his nightmare falling away.  “African Dream Root.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love! Also they help to motivate me, so I'd love to hear what you thought :)


	6. Dream Walking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating in forever. It's been a rough few months, but thank you to everyone who has been patient with me. I hope you enjoy the chapter! :)

 

 

 

            Dean would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous.  After all, he’d never attempted to do anything like this before, and there was always the chance that the experiment could go south fast, but then again, what other options did they really have at this point?  It wasn’t like Balthazar was going to stop haunting Bela until he got what he wanted, and unless Bela spontaneously regained those shadowy parts of her memory, she wasn’t going to leave _him_ alone either.  Dean could just imagine his future—constantly dodging Bela in and around the college campus while he tried to earn a degree and she tried to make his life a living hell.  Yeah, _no._ Better to face this thing head on.  So despite his distaste for Bela and the whole situation, Dean was ready to do whatever he had to do.

            Cas showed up right after Dean got off the phone with Bela letting her know to meet him at his apartment that night after Sam left for work.  He materialized less than two feet in front of Dean; the lack of personal space had always been a part of their strange relationship.  Cas regarded Dean silently for a moment, his blue eyes scanning Dean’s face before he sighed, and said “I’ve spoken with Balthazar.  Neither of us think this is a good idea.  He says there’s no telling what’s crawling around in her brain.  And frankly, I don’t think you should…get that…close to her.”

            Dean shrugged and brushed past Cas, saying “We gotta do what we gotta do, Cas.  Might as well give this a try.”  He busied himself picking dirty socks off the floor near the couch to prepare for Bela’s arrival—frankly he just didn’t feel like listening to her bitch tonight—when he paused in his movement, glanced back over his shoulder at Cas, and frowned.  “Since when do you hang out with Balthazar?”

            Cas shrugged a single shoulder, the movement slightly awkward.  “Balthazar has been very bored since his death, Dean.  I can feel sympathy for him, and so I visit him occasionally to explain things.”

            “Like what?”  Dean demanded, suddenly feeling much more annoyed than the situation necessarily called for.

            “Like how to get around, how to function.  What it’s like when almost every person in the world is unaware of you.”  Cas turned his eyes away from Dean, sneaky bastard, just as Dean felt a wave of thick sorrow wash over him from his friend.  “He didn’t have the benefit of a friend to help him like I did, Dean.”

            Dean could have been mature about the situation.  He should have.  But yeah…no one ever said Dean Winchester was mature.  He huffed, looked away from Cas, and said “I don’t like you hanging out with Balthazar.”

            And even though Dean was facing away, he could feel the weight of Cas’s stare on the back of his neck.  His deep voice rumbled “Then I suppose that makes two of us who are unhappy with this situation.”

 

 

 

 

 

            Bela sauntered into the apartment on her dangerous looking black stilettos like she owned the fucking place.  She tossed her bag onto Dean’s coffee table, shook her hair back from her expertly made-up face, and perched her manicured hands on her hips.  Dean sort of thought it was funny how Bela managed to look down on him while still technically having to look up.  Man, he really hoped that they were able to fix this mess quickly.  “So, shall we begin, then?  What do we have to do?”

            Cas glowered from his perch on the sofa, but Dean pointedly ignored him as he brushed past Bela into the kitchen to retrieve his supplies.  “Well, first things first—we both have to drink the African Dream Root tea that I brewed up.”

            “And then what?”

            Dean smirked to hide his nervousness.  “Well, then I guess we’ll both fall asleep and we can get this show on the road.”

            “You _guess?_ ” Bela drawled incredulously.

            Dean fixed her with an impatient look and the quirk of a brow.  “Oh sorry!  Did you really think I’ve ever dreamwalked before?  Taken a little stroll around the subconscious of my roommate, maybe?  Please.  Desperate times and all that.”

            Bela rolled her eyes.  “No need to get your panties in a twist, Winchester.  I just thought that maybe since you have _professional_ aspirations, you may have conducted a test or two _before_ you attempted to jump into my mind.  That’s all.”

            “Whatever.  I don’t have time to deal with your ever-charming vitriol, Bela.  Let’s do this.”

            “You sure know how to charm a woman, Dean.  So smooth.”  She sat down on the sofa, unknowingly right next to Cas, who curled a lip at her.  “So, where should we do this?  It seems rather _intimate,_ doesn’t it, Dean?  Shall we curl up in bed together and have a good snuggle while we’re at it?”

            Dean snorted and shoved a mug of putrid-smelling tea into Bela’s hand.  He gulped his own and grimaced.  “In your dreams, sweetheart.  And anyway, I wouldn’t count on it being just to the two of us.”  Next to Bela, Cas was clenching his fists in an effort to restrain himself from presumably attempting to strangle her.

            She frowned as she took the first sip of the tea.  “This is disgusting, you know.”  Dean almost expected her to protest further, but she took another, larger sip.

            “Whatever.  Look, I figured you could stretch out on the couch, and I’ll just lay on the floor here next to you.  I don’t know how fast this stuff kicks in, but I figured we should be ready just in case it hits fast.”

            “In case what?”  Bela asked, her voice taking on a strange pitch.  Her face started to blur and Dean’s heart leapt in fear and confusion. 

            He didn’t remember laying down, but he hoped to hell he had.  His own voice sounded far away as he said “In case it…hits…fast.”        

           

 

            Dean blinked and pushed himself up from the cold white marble underneath his body—he could feel how solid it was under his palms.  Everything was silent around him, except for the strange sound of heavy breathing echoing all around him.  Was it him, or was it…?

            Dean stood to find Bela only a couple feet away, hugging herself desperately as she turned in slow circles and took in their surroundings.  They appeared to be standing in the middle of a large mansion—doors and hallways, and elaborate staircases ranged around them.  Finally, Bela seemed to notice Dean and she started, clasping her hand to her chest.  “Jesus!  …Dean?  How did you get here?  You don’t belong here.”

            Dean took stock of himself quickly—he felt a bit disoriented, but he also had that strange feeling of _knowing_ that he was supposed to be there.  “Bela,” he said, and his voice echoed oddly in the space, “we’re dreaming.  This is your dream.”  Bela’s eyes widened with fear and Dean prompted “Where are we?”

            Bela cleared his throat and murmured “This was my parents’ house—where I grew up.” 

            Dean glanced around at the strange arrangement of rooms, hallways, and stairs again, and decided that it probably wasn’t _exactly_ her parents’ house.  This was a dream house, and logic had nothing to do with its construction.  “Why are we here?”  Dean asked.

            Bela took a deep breath and turned her eyes away from Dean.  Her answer was probably the most honest thing she’d ever said to him, and only then because she was lost in the dream haze. “I always come back to this place.  It was Hell, and I couldn’t wait to get out, but somehow…I keep coming back.  I think I left a piece of myself in this place.”

            Dean didn’t say anything to that, because he might not like Bela, but he recognized pain when he heard it, and he wasn’t in the habit of being an asshole needlessly.  “Do you think what we’re looking for is here?”

            Bela shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe.”

            “Alright.  Lead on, then.”

 

 

            Their steps did not echo.  The only sound was still their breaths, magnified creepily in the otherwise empty, still mansion.  Dean followed Bela through illogical twists and turns, until finally they found themselves in a long hallway lined with closed doors.  “Should we…go in?”  Dean asked.

            Bela shrugged.  “I suppose we should choose, shouldn’t we?”  She cast a look at him, and he noticed she’d grown paler still.  “Let’s see if any of them are open.”

            Dean and Bela each took one side of the hallway and began rattling doorknobs.  It didn’t particularly surprise Dean to find that all of the doors were identical, and all were locked.  Still, he dutifully rattled each knob.  On the other side of the hall, he could hear Bela doing the same.  Dean was two doors down from the end, hand poised over the doorknob, same as all the others, when suddenly Bela was there, pulling him away with panic in her eyes.  “Don’t.”

            “What?”  Dean spun toward her, confused.  “Why not?”

            Bela was shaking, though, and her eyes weren’t on him; instead, she was focused on the door that he’d been about to try.  “Don’t go in there.”

            “What is it?”  Bela’s fear was grating at him, and Dean was so, so confused. 

            “There’s something… _bad…_ in there.”  She turned away from him, then, began walking back the way they’d come.  “They’re all locked for a reason.”

 

 

            One second they were in the hallway, the next they were both strapped into a car, seatbelts digging into their skin painfully.  Bright lights bore down on them, and a terrible screeching sound filled the space.  Dean braced himself for an impact, heard Bela scream next to him, and he opened his mouth to scream as well, but instead of a shout, he called “CAS!”

 

 

            They sat at the bottom of a set of stairs, bottles of beer clutched in their hands, as they watched two pitbulls rip each other apart in the middle of the pristine marble foyer.  Dean took a swig from his bottle and pointed at the bloody, torn animals.  “Which one do you think is gonna win?”  He heard himself ask.

            Bela snorted and shook her head.  “Isn’t it obvious?  They’re both going to lose.”

            The dogs were snarling, teeth bared, blood splashing their muzzles and staining the white marble.  Suddenly, though, the entire scene flickered, and the ground shook—a loud BOOM echoed somewhere in the mansion and Bela sprang up from the steps, dragging Dean with her.  “There’s something in the house.”  She muttered, and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pistol.  She was gripping it so hard her knuckles were white.

            “What is it?”

            Bela narrowed her eyes and aimed the gun toward the top of the stairs where a shadow banged out of a door that was suddenly there.  “I don’t know—it doesn’t belong here either.”  The shadow was the size and the shape of a man, but it walked with heavy steps, shaking the whole staircase as it went.  Flashes of blue fire ranged around it—terrifying and beautiful, and Dean felt frozen in his place.  But Bela wasn’t.  She aimed the gun at the figure, put her finger on the trigger, and pulled.

            “No!”  Dean shouted, suddenly understanding.  The bullet froze in the air, halfway between the barrel and the shadow.  Dean heaved a sigh that shook his whole body, the shadow shuddered, and then Cas walked into the light.

            Bela lowered the gun, crossed her arms, and demanded “And who the fuck are you?”

            Cas ignored her, instead focusing his attention on Dean.  “You both need to wake up.  Now.”

 

 

 

            Dean’s back ached like a bitch, but he was able to pick himself up off his living room floor.  He glanced around, almost expecting to see white marble, but no—he was really in his own apartment again.  Cas hovered anxiously at the foot of the couch, staring down at Dean with an unreadable expression on his face.  “What’s wrong, Cas?  What happened?”

            Cas’s eyes were fathomless as Bela began to stir, and he said “It’s been nine hours.  Neither of you would wake up.”

            “Nine hours!”  Dean shouted, leaping all the way up.  “Holy….oh god.  It only felt like a few minutes, though.  And…how did you get into the dream, Cas?  Were you really there?”

            Cas nodded gravely.  “I was there.  And it wasn’t easy.”

            Bela stirred on the couch, groaned, and finally sat up, her hair mussed and clothes slightly askew like she’d been tossing and turning.  Her eyes locked on Dean for a moment before she looked away, embarrassed, and murmured “Well… that was weird as fuck, wouldn’t you say?”

            Dean snorted.  “Weird as fuck,” was a serious understatement.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! :D


End file.
